


A Reunion of Souls

by Mogseltof



Category: Tales of Berseria
Genre: Death, F/F, Grief, Reunion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-28 00:39:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17777258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mogseltof/pseuds/Mogseltof
Summary: My fic for tumblr user fiora for the talesofcovertcupid exchange over on tumblr!Velvet wakes, after everything. She's different, Midgand's different, and everything she knew is gone. For the most part.





	A Reunion of Souls

The world around her was not as silent as she was used to. The chirping of insects and the sound of birds high in the sky dragged her to consciousness as surely as the ringing of a bell in her ear. Velvet stared up into the blue sky, wisps of clouds floating across her vision, fresh grass springy under her back. 

She sat up. 

The world tilted around her. This wasn’t… the last thing she remembered was embracing Laphi, the voices of the Lords, accepting her fate. Her fate wasn’t this, to wake up in a dark shift in a field with all her wounds healed. She stared at her hands. They looked human, normal, unbandaged, no scars, no claw, no daemonblight. 

She climbed to her feet. 

The grass sprung up, fresh and damp where she’d been lying, and her dark purple shift hung loosely around her knees. There were flat black shoes on her feet, sensible, if laced a little high and ribbony around the ankles. When she looked down at the shift, there was shimmery embroidery reminiscent of the malakhim outfits and the praetor uniforms standing out faintly against the fabric. Her hair was loose around her face, as long as she remembered, but lighter than it should have been. 

She started walking. 

It took her several hours to come to the first town. It was small, but typical of the Midgand she remembered, though there was more stone in the buildings than wood. She wasn’t dressed like any of the people there, but they ignored her nonetheless, letting her slip into the crowd like she was nothing but another person. Nothing strange, or wrong, or upsetting, or different about her from anyone else. 

She wasn’t hungry, but she stopped in front of the inn, frowning. She’d been walking for hours, and she hadn’t eaten in…. However long. She pushed the door open and stepped inside. There weren’t many people there, and Velvet estimated it was probably late afternoon, judging by the woman behind the bar wiping off a menu board that had lunch items listed. She stepped up to the bar and spoke, unsure of what would come out of her mouth. “Excuse me,” she said, and was surprised to find that she could speak normally. 

There was no response. 

“Hello?” she tried again, leaning over the bar with a small frown. 

The woman continued wiping off the board, chalk dust flying up from the rag she was using. 

Velvet lost her temper. “HEY!” she yelled, slamming her hand down on the bar with a scowl, making a glass tumbler jump an inch into the air. 

The woman started, looking up from the board with a pronounced blink. 

“Finally,” groused Velvet, inspecting her hand. It actually stung. “Can I get something to -”

The woman picked up the glass, completely ignoring Velvet, and gave it a hard stare before setting it down on the counter on the other side of the bar and going back to wiping off the menu board. 

Velvet stared at her. 

Then she stared at her own two hands. Was she invisible? Had some witch brought her out of where she was meant to be and  _ cursed _ her? Knowing witches, it wasn’t impossible. Or maybe this was some kind of sick nightmare and she was exactly where she was supposed to be, doomed to spend eternity wandering a dreamscape where she could scream all she liked with nobody to hear her.

Resonance. 

The word echoed in her mind. After fixing Artorius’ actions, the levels of resonance in the world should have returned to normal. Which would mean the average human wouldn’t be able to see daemons or malakhim unless they were particularly powerful, and Velvet wasn’t a corrupt malakhim, she’d never be a dragon--

She kept staring at her hands. Her daemonblight free hands. 

A malakhim is born from an earthpulse, a being of pure mana, or, occasionally, from the spirit of a human. She could  _ hear _ the murmur of Eizen’s voice in her head, talking about his sister, confirming what had happened with Celica, Seres. What had happened with  _ Phi _ . 

Being the Lord of Calamity had been a very distinct feeling. One of malevolence and blood and steel on her tongue. One she didn’t feel anymore. There was no malevolence in her, no signs of daemonblight on her. Velvet hesitated and leaned over the bar, putting her hand around a bottle of beer. The woman continued to ignore her general existence and Velvet took it, retreating from the bar. She worked it open and took a long mouthful. 

The taste of hops exploded on her tongue, bitter and sharp, and definitely not like blood or steel at all. 

She wasn’t a daemon anymore. And she probably wasn’t human. Velvet retreated to the back of the room anyway, heading for the darkest corner despite being fairly certain by now that she wasn’t visible to a good portion of the room. She sank down into the chair, frowning at the bottle in her hands. If she were a malak, what exactly was she supposed to do? Wander the continent committing random acts? Find a pirate crew to bless? Set up a domain?

Of all of those options, wandering seemed the most appealing. Velvet left the barely drunk bottle of beer on the table and got up, leaving the inn. 

* * *

Midgand was a changed land. Velvet had travelled enough of it the first time around for the changes to be uncanny and different enough that she couldn’t quite tell what part of the continent she was on at any given time. There was a desert where there had been none before, and a town built in the ruins of a familiar structure that made her think of battle and righteous rage. 

She didn’t linger too long in any one place. 

At first she avoided the larger cities, and other malakhim, not wanting to interact with people, afraid they’d know her for something wrong, out of place. There was only so long she could keep it up though, and only so many patches of forest, or swamps, or fields she could wander through before coming across more humanity. Every now and then she’d come across a malak -- some tried to greet her, but most stayed away when she scowled at them. 

There was a town that caught her eye. She didn’t get tired anymore, not really, but there was always a niggling feeling of something wrong if she didn’t rest. She emerged from the forest and walked up to the gates, slipping inside behind a group of merchants chatting loudly with each other. She spotted a malak lingering across from what appeared to be a church as she ventured deeper into the town and turned on one heel before he could notice her, ready to leave, leftover urge to rest be damned. 

A soft cry caught her ear. 

Without so much as stopping to think about it, Velvet was walking up to the house it was coming from. She caught herself at the gate, hand hovering over the latch. What was she  _ doing _ ? Going to comfort a crying child? One who couldn’t see her? The child sobbed again and Velvet closed her hand over the top of the gate, jumping it in a flash. 

It was a young boy, weeping over a dog. A woman was hugging him close, kissing the top of his head. “There there, she said softly, running her fingers through the boy’s hair. “She lived a good, long life. We’ll bury her under the tree, okay?”

The boy sniffled, leaning into his mother’s arms. “Okay,” he said, swiping at his tears. Velvet froze, not sure if she should simply leave them be and pretend this had never happened to herself, but something in her swelled, almost burning. “What’ll happen to her? Now that she’s dead?” the boy asked quietly, eyes on the corpse of the dog, entirely unaware of Velvet’s mental conflict behind him. 

“Nobody knows,” said his mother, kissing his forehead and letting him go. “All we can do is pray. I’ll go get the shovel.”

The boy nodded as his mother stood up and walked back towards the house, and Velvet watched him as he took a tentative step over to the dog and closed his eyes, before he began speaking out loud. “Please, holy seraph,” he started, clenching his eyes shut tightly. “Please make sure Maggie will be okay now that she’s dead, and, and, don’t let her be sad! I miss her!”

He was starting to cry again, and the swelling, burning feeling nearly over took Velvet completely. She stepped forward and knelt in front of the boy, cupping his cheek. “You’re strong,” she said quietly, and she felt a surge of  _ something _ travel between the boy’s skin and her hand. She jerked back, standing up quickly and staring at her fingertips. 

There was a ball of sadness in her stomach that hadn’t been there before. The boy opened his eyes and swiped away the few last tears, looking up as his mother came back out of the house holding a shovel. Velvet stepped aside, her stomach churning. 

“Do you want to go to the church later and ask a priest if they’ll pray for her?” asked the boy’s mother kindly. 

The boy shook his head. “No, I asked the seraphs to look after her,” he said solemnly. “She’s going to be okay.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” said a quiet, amused voice, and Velvet looked up so quickly her hair spun round into her face. The malak she’d avoided before was leaning over the gate, smiling at her. 

She scowled reflexively, crossing her arms over her chest. “Do what?” she asked coolly. 

“Take away his worry like that,” the malak said easily. “It was nice of you.”

Velvet’s scowl deepened. “I hardly see how it’s any of your business.”

The malak shrugged. “It’s not. I’m the lord of the land here-”

“I don’t care,” said Velvet flatly, striding away from the boy and jumping the fence, not looking at the malak as she went past. “Goodbye.”

She left the town in a hurry, but it wasn’t the last one she went into. She found herself more drawn to the buildings after that, and the swelling power ebbed and flowed through her as she went. A little girl having nightmares in a large city that was so familiar it made her sick. A young boy crying out for his dead mother in a town where the buildings were all raised off the ground. A sister in a graveyard weeping over her brother’s headstone while a priest tried to comfort her. 

Velvet carried their grief, their worries, their dreams, burying thoughts of Laphi under other people’s dead. 

Her feet carried her across the continent until she found a city, cobblestone bridge leading out to the middle of a lake where the buildings were. She crossed it, slipping between people and guards as they stomped back and forth, talking loudly. She wandered through the buildings, down the streets, observing and listening, ears sharp for the sound of an upset child. 

Fresh food scented the air as she mounted the steps up towards a marketplace, and she drooled slightly before giving in and swiping a steaming bun from stall. The taste in her mouth was incredible, sweet mabo curry seeping through the bun, and Velvet let herself enjoy the taste. She’d carried the burden of Calamity willingly, but she’d never quite gotten used to the taste of blood on her tongue, not when she’d spent so much time cooking before. 

There was a frustrated cry, and Velvet looked up in time to see a young boy, about ten years old, pull away from his father with an angry expression and run into the large church at the end of the square. She frowned and started walking over with purpose, intent on finding out what was wrong. 

The doors to the church were open to the public, and the main room was a large hall with stone stairs going up each side, carpeted in blue. People were milling about, talking to a variety of priests, praying, and there were no few children looking about in awe, looking at the patterns of light through the stained glass windows and jumping up to try and reach the royal blue banners hanging from the ceiling. 

Velvet’s attention, however, was caught entirely by the malak in the centre of the room. She wore a delicate dress of red and white, and her hair was silvery green, fading to red at the ends, but it was her face that captivated Velvet. She was watching the children with a half smile, eyes soft around the edges in such a familiar way that Velvet was marching over before she could stop herself. 

“Eleanor!” she called demandingly as she strode through, standing at the base of the platform Eleanor was standing on. 

Eleanor jumped, turning to face her. “I haven’t been call-- Velvet?!” Her eyes blew wide in surprise, and her smile turned into a full on grin, and then suddenly Velvet was covered in a bone crushing embrace with a clatter of heels against stone flooring and fabric pressed against her skin, Eleanor’s head hooked over her shoulder. 

Velvet stumbled back and shoved at Eleanor. “Get off me!”

Her hands couldn’t seem to move from Eleanor’s shoulders though, holding onto her tightly. “I can’t believe I’m seeing you,” said Eleanor, still smiling widely, and one of her hands came up to rest on Velvet’s wrist. 

“Don’t get sentimental on me,” said Velvet tightly, though she was pretty sure her heart had skipped a beat. “What are you doing?”

Eleanor beamed at her, squeezing Velvet’s wrist. “Helping people, clearing malevolence,” she said enigmatically. 

Clearing malevolence? Still helping people? She’d  _ died _ and hadn’t given up the fight? Anger built in Velvet, making her hands shake. That wasn’t what she’d given herself up for, that wasn’t  _ fair _ , no one should have to keep fighting after they were dead-- “That’s awful,” she said, frowning. 

“What do you mean?” said Eleanor, sounding confused. “Velvet, people could die, or reach a point of corruption from which there is no return, I’m helping  _ stop _ that.”

“You shouldn’t  _ have _ to!” snapped Velvet, loudly, anger hot and heavy in her chest. “You  _ died _ , Eleanor, that’s supposed to be the  _ end _ of the fight!”

Eleanor frowned, her hand dropping. “Velvet, I  _ chose _ to do this,” she said firmly. “I’m carrying out my oath to you, to  _ Phi _ . I  _ need _ to do this, it’s  _ my _ fight.”

“No it’s  _ not _ !” said Velvet hotly, taking a step forward. “It  _ was _ your fight! You  _ died _ now it’s someone else’s!”

“There  _ is _ no one else!” said Eleanor, not backing down. “What do you expect the humans to do, Velvet? Fight an enemy they can’t see or recognise as existing? This isn’t their battle anymore! As malakhim, as seraphim, this  _ is _ our fight to protect this land and our people. I  _ made _ it my fight!”

“Well you  _ shouldn’t _ have made it your fight!” yelled Velvet, throwing her hands up into the air, her frown deepening into a scowl. “You fought all your life, Eleanor! Why wouldn’t you rest! You could have settled somewhere, set up a domain, helped people  _ without _ throwing yourself against daemons and malevolence!”

Eleanor met her eyes, nearly level for once with her heeled shoes. “Velvet, you know I can’t do that,” she said, firm but gentle. “I dedicated my entire life to this cause. My  _ entire _ life. I took an oath, in my human life, and in this one. What have you done since you woke? Have you rested? Settled down? Taken the burden off your shoulders?” She was leaning in, crowding Velvet’s personal space, not backing down like the Eleanor of the past might have done. 

Velvet thought of every child in every town she’d been through since the boy with the dead dog, and her heart panged. “You know I can’t do that,” she said quietly. “It’s not the  _ same thing _ .”

Eleanor laughed, covering her mouth. “You haven’t changed a bit,” she said, shaking her head, and she hugged Velvet again. 

“Yeah, I’ll still  _ rip your head off _ if you don’t let go of me!” Velvet threatened, but she didn’t put up her hands to push Eleanor away, letting her eyes fall shut, and imagining the twin red ponytails, the military uniform, those ridiculous boots pressing against her, everything that made Eleanor human. She was warmer than Velvet expected, like a fire was burning under her skin. 

Eleanor pulled back, clasping Velvet’s biceps loosely, a sad smile on her face. “So much has changed since you’ve bettered the world, but you’re still the same person. It makes me believe in life again.”

Velvet snorted, shaking herself loose from Eleanor’s grasp. “It’s hardly a better world,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “People keep hurting, there’s plenty of corruption, and the people in power keep doing the same things.”

“You changed the world for the better,” argued Eleanor, “Humans will always be humans, and you made sure that they’d not only be able to do that, but that they’d have a world to do it in!”

“And what is it worth if I can’t save one person!” yelled Velvet, anger flaring in her eyes, her hair flying in the air as she whipped her head to glare at Eleanor. “This whole thing! The whole  _ damn _ reason I did any of this was to let Laphi rest and I couldn’t even do that!”

“What do you mean?” asked Eleanor, stunned. 

Velvet threw her hands in the air, taking a step back, suddenly unable to look at Eleanor as she deflated, unsteady on her feet. “He’s dead, Eleanor, he has to be. Look me in the eye and tell me I’d be here if he were still out there.”

She sank to the floor, sitting on the edge of the pedestal Eleanor had been standing on, staring out into the crowd of oblivious humans. She had died. She was a malak. She had to  _ accept  _ that. Accept that everything she’d done for her brother was in vain. 

There was the ruffle of skirts and the brush of fabric against her arm as Eleanor sat next to her, Velvet still not looking up. “Eizen died,” Eleanor said quietly. “Something went wrong and I couldn’t stop it, and then when I went looking for him he’d become a dragon. I couldn’t -- I  _ didn’t _ do anything to help him, Velvet.”

“You can’t do anything to help a malak who has become a dragon, and Eizen wouldn’t have thanked you for trying,” said Velvet after a long moment, glancing at Eleanor out of the corner of her eyes. She was staring at her hands in her lap, dainty fingers that had killed so many curled together. Velvet wondered briefly what Eizen had looked like as a dragon, and couldn’t reconcile it with the man she’d travelled with who spoke so wistfully of his sister and protected his crew so fiercely. 

Eleanor sniffled, leaning her head on Velvet’s shoulder, and Velvet stiffened, alarmed. She’d never been good with people her own age getting emotional, and even after Laphi it had been hard with children. The thought of the children she’d helped passed through her head, and her own eyes filled with tears without her permission. She dashed at them angrily, shaking her head, and wrapped an arm around Eleanor’s shoulder, propping her chin over the crown of Eleanor’s head. 

“I’ve been answering prayers,” she admitted quietly. “It’s not my place but I’ve been doing it anyway.”

“What kind of prayers?” asked Eleanor. “You’re one of us, it’s your place.”

“I’m not one of anything,” said Velvet, rolling her eyes. “Good grief. And just. Children. People who have lost someone. The less people like me in the world, the better.”

Eleanor didn’t rise to the bait, still staring at her hands. “Every time I lose someone the hole in my heart grows bigger,” she said quietly. “One day I think it’s going to swallow me whole and I’ll lose myself in there with everybody else.”

Velvet gave her a long, considering look. “That’s impossible,” she said sharply, when it became apparent Eleanor wasn’t going to say anything else on the topic. “How many years has it been and you’re still you? And now I’m here, and if you think I’m going to let you do something so foolish as ‘lose’ yourself then you are so very mistaken.”

Eleanor started and stared at her, eyes wide, for a moment, before her face crinkled and she broke into a laugh. She got to her feet and brushed off her skirt, beaming at Velvet and offering a hand to help her up. “I’ve had a lot of help over the years.”

Velvet took her hand, feeling electricity spark between their fingertips, and she tightened her grip, ignoring the feeling. Eleanor hauled her upwards, planting her feet like she was wearing her old, sturdy boots instead of these tiny red and gold heels. Despite the relative increase in frippery (very minor, Velvet still remembered the  _ frills _ ) Eleanor was still every inch the valiant knight, and as she was pulled to her feet, Velvet felt very much the vagabond daemon she had once been. Silhouetted by the window, Eleanor looked crowned in sunlight, noble as her position in life had demanded of her. 

“Velvet,” said Eleanor, still holding her hand, and Velvet realised with a fierce intensity just how close together they were standing. “I promise I won’t lose myself. I’m not going to fail, not while you’re here to remind me exactly what I’m fighting for.”

Of all the stupid, noble things to swear -- Velvet closed the last few inches between them and kissed Eleanor before she could stop herself. Eleanor made a soft, surprised noise, and after a single second, kissed Velvet back, soft, too warm lips melding against Velvet’s own. 

The kiss lasted a few, heart stopping seconds, and when they parted, Eleanor’s hand had come up to cup Velvet’s cheek, lighting a fire under her skin. Eleanor was smiling with her eyes, head tilted to the side. “I missed you,” she said quietly. “It’s selfish when what you did was so necessary, but I still missed you.”

Velvet felt the warmth of the sun upon her skin as it shone upon them through the window where they stood, and she didn’t say anything, simply leaning in and kissing Eleanor again. 


End file.
